


Overpower

by Paragosm



Series: It All Started In Valinor (Familial Ties verse) [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alqualondë, Angst, Broken Promises, Burning of the Ships at Losgar, Caranthir is Not Ok, Crispy Twin Edition, Crying, Feänor isn't actually this bad of a father it's just from Caranthir's pov, First Kinslaying (Tolkien), Gen, I'm sorry not sorry, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 20:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21105575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paragosm/pseuds/Paragosm
Summary: The ships are burning, and we started the fire. And now, we suffer the consequences.





	Overpower

Finwë was dead. Grandatto was dead. The silmarils, gone. There was nothing but darkness (and the stars, but how could they compare?). And he'd done it. He'd sworn that fucking Oath. Maybe now, Atar would be proud. He'd help get the fucking jewels that his Atar seemed to love like sons back, he'd avenge Grandatto, and he'd take care of the twins. Ammë had called for them, begging Atar to leave them, or at least one, but they didn't stay. He'd watch his baby brothers, he'd protect them, he promised her.

***************

There was blood on his hands, on his face, spattered on his body and clothes. The teleri was dead and still ran through on the sword Atar had made and given to him. He felt nothing, the other elf had been going to hurt Pityafinwë. He wouldn't let him. So he killed him. And felt nothing, but only for a few seconds. He yanked his sword free and nearly vomited at the guts and blood. He heard the cries of his brothers, and turned on his heel, covering the twins. He would not show weakness. He would think about his actions later.  
For now, he would protect the twins. Protect them, protect them, protect them--

***************

They had made it across. And Pityo had gone to sleep in one of the boats, secretly confiding in his two most trusted brothers he wished, if only a small bit, to return. Telufinwë had curled up with Morifinwë, the seemingly most distant one of them hugging him tightly, nightmares of what had happened blazing in their heads, burying deep in their skulls. He held him close, protected him, protected him, protected him--

***************

They awoke to smoke, and fire, and embers, and ash. The ships were burning. Telufinwë screamed in his arms as Morifinwë, Nelyafinwë, and Kanáfinwë all played a part in dragging him away, kicking and screaming his twins name, the ships ablaze. He'd tried to run into the fire, and Morifinwë had stopped him. His brother tried to get away, but Morifinwë intentionally fell down, dragging his brother with him to a sitting position. He managed to turn Telufinwë around so that he faced away from the roaring flames, his arms and legs trapped by Morifinwë's. He sobbed, crying out until his voice was hoarse, digging his face into his brother's neck. 

Morifinwë looked straight at the flickering blaze. His expression filled with fury and pain and anguish all at once. 

He could feel it when Pityo's feä left forever, it's agony over. He felt it, less himself, and more as Telufinwë screeched in a way that anyone nearby had never truly heard but instantly understood. It was not speech. It was pure grief tearing it's way out of his body, voice still so hoarse it was mixed with a cry of pain. It shattered the hearts of those who heard it.

It eventually quieted, his tears streaming down his cheeks, his expression nearly listless and his throat raw enough he whimpered whenever he swallowed or drew breath. Kanáfinwë sent him to sleep with a power-laced song, and everyone, even (or especially) Curufinwë, was deeply shaken. 

Morifinwë was enraged: he made it clear when he stormed into Atar's tent the next day, or whenever it was, the way to anywhere lit by torches, barely holding himself together, fists clenched. Fëanoró looked up. He saw his sons file in. He knew of what had happened. And the dark-haired middle child, brows drawn tightly, had made his desicion.

"Atar" he said "you knew he was on that boat.""Yes. I remember it." Fëanoró said absently. "It was burned first." You could have heard a feather drop... "You've changed, Fëanoró" he spat, after a few moments of silence "fell and fey you have become.""Moryo--""Carnistir." Snarled the red-faced male. Fëanoró looked as if he'd been slapped across the face. "What did you say?" He said, trying to keep his voice even. "My name" he spat "is Carnistir." He added in a near-feral snarl "Ambarto is dead because of you! Or should I say Umbarto, you..you..!" he struggled to find the words, eventually slamming his fist hard enough for the room to hear a crack into a table filled with maps and books. 

He strode out the door before he could do more damage, to himself and others.  
Fëanoró was shocked, and glanced around the room. Tyelkormo lowered his head, not meeting his gaze, all filled with shame at what most had done, burning the boats without a second thought. Curufinwë met eyes with his father, with whom he shared his name, grief-filled yet loyal to him, though the others still were to degrees, him more so, holding his scared son close to his chest. The eldest two looked as if they'd gotten a sip of something gone sour, as Macalaurë turned and followed his brother after a few more moments of staring in silence, Maitimo coming as well. Maitimo, who had never wanted this to happen, his gaze being drawn across the sea as he followed after his hot-tempered brother.

They found him with his head rested on Ambarussa's bedroll, his breath catching as tears started dripping down his face. "I promised Ammë" he whispered "I promised I'd keep you both safe. I promised. I killed for you, I protected you..." He inhaled, shuddering. "I'm so, so sorry." He whispered, voice cracking. 

Macalaurë's heart shattered further. Carnistir was still crying when Amburussa started to stir, his lips wavering in the torch light. "Moryo" he said hoarsely, silvery eyes meeting reddened steel blue ones "please, please, tell me it was a nightmare." Carnistir broke down again, head in his hands. "Carnistir..." Macalaurë whispered, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

"Amburussa..." Carnistir whispered to him. "I...I would do anything for it to be a nightmare..." Ambarussa's eyes filled with tears, lowering his head. "I know it is not, but.." Carnistir got up and hugged him, his youngest brother returning it as they rocked together. 

***************

_Carnistir has been deeply hurt, and has decided delicacy has no place in this world. His long time love of the more delicate things, such as his embroidery, is replaced with a cold heart and absolute wrath. _

_And so, he puts down his needles and his measurements. He starts gaining what he needs, strength wise, if it wasn't there before._

_And picks up a large, cruel battleaxe, for what weapon is furthest from the delicacy he has forsaken?_

_And so he called the large axe Loita, to fail, after his broken promise and his brother, Ambarto's, death. But it became know as Aica, fell, to those who beheld him and it in battle. _

_He is grieving._

_He is angry._

_He is a Kinslayer._

_And he shall kill._

**Author's Note:**

> Are you happy/sad enough now?


End file.
